_LOVE, SUFFERING AND SUICIDE_.
Peter Lamb, a young man who is employed in one of the village stores,
some time ago conceived a very strong passion for a neighbor of his,
Miss Julia Brown, the doctor's daughter. But the Fates seemed to be
against the successful prosecution of his suit, for he managed to
plunge into a series of catastrophes in the presence of the young
lady, and to make himself so absurd that even his affection seemed
ridiculous. One summer evening, when he was just beginning to make
advances, Miss Brown came over to see Peter's sister, and the two
girls sat out upon the front porch together in the darkness, talking.
Peter plays a little upon the bugle, and it occurred to him that it
would be a good thing to exhibit his skill to Julia. So he went into
the dark parlor and felt over the top of the piano for the horn. It
happened that his aunt from Penn's Grove had been there that day and
had left her brass ear-trumpet lying on the piano, and Peter got hold
of this without perceiving the mistake, as the two were of similar
shape. He took it in his hand and went out on the porch where Miss
Brown was sitting. He asked Miss Brown if she was fond of music on the
horn; and when she said she adored it, he asked her how she would like
him to play "Ever of Thee;" and she said that was the only tune she
cared anything for.
So Peter put the small end of the trumpet to his lips and blew. He
blew and blew. Then he blew some more, and then he drew a fresh breath
and blew again. The only sound that came was a hollow moan, which
sounded so queerly in the darkness that Miss Brown asked him if he was
not well. And when he said he was, she said that he went exactly like
a second cousin of hers that had the asthma.
Then Peter remarked that somehow the horn was out of order for "Ever
of Thee;" but if Miss Brown would like to hear "Sweetly I dreamed,
Love," he would try to play it, and Miss Brown said that the fondest
recollections clustered about the melody.
So Peter put the trumpet to his lips again and strained his lungs
severely in an effort to make some music. It wouldn't come, but he
made a very singular noise, which induced Miss Brown to ask if the
horse in the stable back of the house had heaves. Then Peter said he
thought somebody must have plugged the bugle up with something, and
he asked his sister to light the gas in the entry while he cleaned it
out. When she did so, the ear-trumpet became painfully conspicuous,
and both the girls laughed. When Miss Brown laughed, Peter looked up
at her with pain in his face, put on his hat and went out into the
street, where he could express his feelings in violent terms.
A few nights later the Browns had a tea-party, to which Mr. Lamb was
invited. He went, determined to do his full share of entertaining the
company. While supper was in progress, Mr. Lamb said in a loud voice,
"By the way, did you read that mighty good thing in the _Patriot_ the
other day about the woman over in Bridgeport? It was one of the most
amusing things that ever came under my observation. The woman's name,
you see, was Emma. Well, there were two young fellows paying attention
to her, and after she'd accepted one of them the other also proposed
to her and as she felt certain that the first one wasn't in earnest,
she accepted the second one too. So a few days later both of 'em
called at the same time, both claimed her hand, and both insisted on
marrying her at once. Then, of course, she found herself face to face
with a mighty unpleasant--unpleasant--Er--er--er--Less see; what's the
word I want? Unpleasant--Er--er--Blamed if I haven't forgotten that
word."
"Predicament," suggested Mr. Potts.
"No, that's not it. What's the name of that thing with two horns?
Unpleasant--Er--er--Hang it! it's gone clear out of my mind."
"A cow," hinted Miss Mooney.
"No, not a cow."
"Maybe it's a buffalo," remarked Dr. Dox.
"No, no kind of an animal. Something else with two horns. Mighty queer
I can't recall it."
"Perhaps it's a brass band," observed Butterwick.
"Or a man who's had a couple of drinks," suggested Dr. Brown.
"Of course not."
"You don't mean a fire company?" asked Mrs. Banger.
"N--no. That's the confounded queerest thing I ever heard of, that I
can't remember that word," said Mr. Lamb, getting warm and beginning
to feel miserable.
"Well, give us the rest of the story without it," said Potts.
"That's the mischief of it," said Mr. Lamb. "The whole joke turns on
that infernal word."
"_Two_ horns did you say?" asked Dr. Dox. "Maybe it is a catfish."
"Or a snail," remarked Judge Twiddler.
"N--no; none of those."
"Is it an elephant or a walrus?" asked Mrs. Dox.
"I guess I'll have to give it up," said Mr. Lamb, wiping the
perspiration from his brow.
"Well, that's the sickest old story I ever encountered," remarked
Butterwick to Potts. Then everybody smiled, and Mr. Lamb, looking
furtively at Julia, appeared to feel as if he would welcome death on
the spot.
The mystery is yet unsolved; but it is believed that Peter was
trying to build up the woman's name, Emma, into a pun upon the word
"dilemma." The secret, however, is buried in his bosom.
Peter professes to be an expert in legerdemain, and he came to Brown's
prepared to perform some of his best feats. When the company assembled
in the drawing-room after tea, he determined to redeem the fearful
blunder that he had made in the dining-room.
Several of the magicians who perform in public do what they call
"the gold-fish trick." The juggler stands upon the stage, throws a
handkerchief over his extended arm and produces in succession three or
four shallow glass dishes filled to the brim with water in which live
gold-fish are swimming. Of course the dishes are concealed somehow
upon the person of the performer.
Peter had discovered how the trick was done, and he resolved to do it
now. So the folks all gathered in one end of the parlor, and in a few
moments Lamb entered the door at the other end. He said,
"Ladies and gentlemen, you will perceive that I have nothing about me
except my ordinary clothing; and yet I shall produce presently two
dishes filled with water and living fish. Please watch me narrowly."
Then Peter flung the handkerchief over his hand and arm, and we could
see that he was working away vigorously at something beneath it. He
continued for some moments, and still the gold-fish did not appear. Then
he began to grow very red in the face, and we saw that something was the
matter. Then the perspiration began to stand on Peter's forehead, and
Mrs. Brown asked him if anything serious was the matter. Then the
company smiled, and the magician grew redder; but he kept on fumbling
beneath that handkerchief, and apparently trying to reach around under
his coat-tails. Then we heard something snap, and the next moment a
quart of water ran down the wizard's left leg and spread out over the
carpet. By this time he looked as if joy had forsaken him for ever. But
still he continued to feel around under the handkerchief. At last
another snap was heard, and another quart of water plunged down his
right leg and formed a pool about his shoe. Then the necromancer
hurriedly said that the experiment had failed somehow, and he darted
into the dining-room. We followed him, and found him sitting on the sofa
trying to remove his pantaloons. He exclaimed,
"Oh, gracious! Come here quick, and pull these off! They're soaking
wet, and I've got fifteen live gold-fish inside my trousers flipping
around, and rasping the skin with their fins enough to set a man
crazy. Ouch! Hurry that shoe off, and catch that fish there at my left
knee, or I'll have to howl right out."
[Illustration: THE GOLDFISH TRICK]
Then we undressed him and picked the fish out of his clothes, and we
discovered that he had had two dishes full of water and covered with
India-rubber tops strapped inside his trousers behind. In his struggle
to get at them he had torn the covers to rags. We fixed him up in a
pair of Dr. Brown's trousers, which were six inches too short for
him, and then he climbed over the back fence and went home. Such
misfortunes would have discouraged most men utterly, but Peter was
desperately in love; and a week or two later, without stopping to
estimate his chances, he proposed to his fair enchantress. She refused
him promptly, of course. He seemed almost wild over his defeat, and
his friends feared that some evil consequences would ensue. Their
apprehensions were realized. Peter called upon young Potts and asked
him if he had a revolver, and Potts said he had. Peter asked Potts to
lend it to him, and Potts did so. Then Peter informed Potts that he
had made up his mind to commit suicide. He said that since Miss Brown
had dealt so unkindly with him he felt that life was an insupportable
burden, and he could find relief only in the tomb. He intended to go
down by the river-shore and there blow out his brains, and so end all
this suffering and grief and bid farewell to a world that had grown
dark to him. He said that he mentioned the fact to Potts in confidence
because he wanted him to perform some little offices for him when he
was gone. He entrusted to Potts a sonnet entitled "A Last Farewell,"
and addressed to Julia Brown. This he asked should be delivered to
Miss Brown as soon as his corpse was discovered. He said it might
excite a pang in her bosom and induce her to cherish his memory. Then
he gave Potts his watch as a keepsake, and handed him forty dollars,
with which he desired Mr. Potts to purchase a tombstone. He said he
would prefer a plain one with his simple name cut upon it, and he
wanted the funeral to be as unostentatious as possible.
Potts promised to fulfill these commissions, and he suggested that he
would lend Mr. Lamb a bowie-knife, with which he could slash himself
up if the pistol failed.
But the suicide said that he would make sure work with the revolver,
although he was much obliged for the offer all the same. He said he
would like Potts to go around in the morning and break the news as
gently as possible to his unhappy mother, and to tell her that his
last thought was of her. But he particularly requested that she would
not put on mourning for her erring son.
Then he said that the awful act would be performed on the beach, just
below the gas-works, and he wished Potts to come out with some kind of
a vehicle to bring the remains home. If Julia came to the funeral,
she was to have a seat in the carriage next to the hearse; and if she
wanted his heart, it was to be given to her in alcohol. It beat only
for her. Potts was to tell his employers at the store that he parted
with them with regret, but doubtless they would find some other person
more worthy of their confidence and esteem. He said he didn't care
where he was buried, but let it be in some lonely place far from the
turmoil and trouble of the world--some place where the grass grows
green and where the birds come to carol in the early spring-time.
Mr. Potts asked him if he preferred a deep or a shallow grave; but Mr.
Lamb said it made very little difference--when the spirit was gone,
the mere earthly clay was of little account. He owed seventy cents for
billiards down at the saloon, and Potts was to pay that out of the
money in his hands, and to request the clergyman not to preach a
sermon at the cemetery. Then he shook hands with Potts and went away
to his awful doom.
The next morning Mr. Potts wrote to Julia, stopped in to tell them at
the store, and nearly killed Mrs. Lamb with the intelligence. Then he
borrowed Bradley's wagon; and taking with him the coroner, he drove
out to the beach, just below the gas-works, to fetch home the
mutilated corpse. When they reached the spot, the body was not there,
and Potts said he was very much afraid it had been washed away by the
flood tide. So they drove up to Keyser's house, about half a mile
from the shore, to ask if any of the folks there had heard the fatal
pistol-shot or seen the body.
On going around to the wood-pile they saw Keyser holding a terrier dog
backed close up against a log. The dog's tail was lying across the
log, and another man had the axe uplifted. A second later the axe
descended and cut the tail off close to the dog, and while Keyser
restrained the frantic animal, the other man touched the bleeding
stump with caustic. As they let the dog go Potts was amazed to see
that the chopper was the wretched suicide. He was amazed, but
before he could ask any questions Peter stepped up to him and said,
"Hush-sh-sh! Don't say anything about that matter. I thought better
of it. The pistol looked so blamed dangerous when I cocked it that I
changed my mind and came over here to Keyser's to stay all night. I'm
going to live just to spite that Brown girl."
[Illustration: A CURTAILMENT]
Then the coroner said that he didn't consider he had been treated like
a gentleman, and he had half a notion to give Mr. Lamb a pounding.
But they all drove home in the wagon, and just as Mrs. Lamb got done
hugging Peter a letter was handed him containing the sonnet he had
sent Julia. She returned it with the remark that it was the most
dreadful nonsense she ever read, and that she knew he hadn't courage
enough to kill himself. Then Peter went back to the store, and was
surprised to find that his employers had so little emotion as to dock
him for half a day's absence. What he wants now is to ascertain if he
cannot compel Potts to give up that watch. Potts says he has too much
respect for the memory of his unfortunate friend to part with it, but
he is really sorry now that he ordered that tombstone. On the first of
May, Peter's bleeding heart had been so far stanched as to enable him
to begin skirmishing around the affections of a girl named Smith; and
if she refuses him, he thinks that tombstone may yet come into play.
But we all have our doubts about it.